And Happily Ever After: A Romantic Interlude
by Unsung Heroine
Summary: On a night in Thargelion… More or less romancey one shot. Not without some bittersweet tones, though. Takes place at the time of WRU. HalethCaranthir. Hey, what did you expect from me?


**Summary:** On a night in Thargelion… More or less romance-y one shot. Not without some bittersweet tones, though. Takes place at the time of WRU. Originally written - or rather completed - as a birthday present for the wonderful Vana Tuivana, my fellow Caranthir -fangurl. ;)

**Warning:** Some nakedness. But as always, I'm being awfully implicit. ;)

**And Happily Ever After:**

**A Romantic Interlude**

Night falls quickly in Thargelion. Darkness descends, and as the shadows lengthen in the great fortress at Rerir torches are lit in the dim hallways and the arcades that surround the square courtyard. It is still, but for the trickling of the water in the fountain, and dimmed voices sounding from within the walls.

The courtyard is empty but for two figures only recognized at second glance; one tall, the other smaller, half hidden by one of the slender pillars, skin like molten bronze in the firelight. Two voices drift down from the arched walkway, hushed, whispered and yet clearly distinguishable; one distinctively male, the other bright and girlish, as they stand there, heads together, hands entwined, lips barely touching. Suddenly the woman laughs softly, reaching up to the other's neck and encircling it gently with remarkably strong hands, pressing her hips against his.

There is an alcove just next to them, shielded from prying eyes but for a narrow entrance. She gives a little yelp of surprise when he pushes her into it.

"Feanorion," she hisses, voice slightly muffled from being pressed against his shoulder. "Not here. People will hear us."

"I do not care," he says and she buries her face into his hair to stifle her giggles. He never tells her, but he loves it when she acts this way. He loves it when she acts not one day older than she actually is; just a young girl for a moment and not the leader of Men she strives to impersonate in the light of day.

"Shit, Feanorion, that was my elbow."

"Stop being such a girl, Atanwende. I cannot see anything in here."

"So much I guessed."

Again she laughs a little, when outside, under the arched walkway, suddenly the steps of many feet can be heard.

"Shh," he whispers sharply, followed by a moment of apprehensive silence.

"What is it?"

"Do you not hear this?"

Another moment of apprehensive silence follows.

"What?"

"Someone's out there. Probably one of my brothers."

"Hmm," she grunts, retreating further into the corner. "I should have known. I don't know how they do it but they manage to…"

An exasperated sigh.

"For Ilúvatar's sake, be silent, Haleth. Whoever it is will quickly find us if you carry on like this."

She chuckles lightly, kissing his neck. "You should not be afraid. I will not let them do anything to you."

"You are drunk."

"So are you, Feanorion."

"Shh."

"What is it now?"

"Listen."

"What?"

"It is silent again, Haleth. Whoever it was must have gone." The next few words are muffled slightly. "I would rather go somewhere else nonetheless. Who knows how many other will yet feel the need for some fresh air tonight."

"Fine," she whispers, hands caught within the shadows of his hair. "What will we do?"

"Give me a little time to bath. I will leave the door to my chambers open."

She nods slightly against his chest, and there is a little more muffled groaning, a little stifled laughter until they finally break apart.

In the silence of the night, Haleth leans her head against the wall, heart racing, shivering in the cold breeze.

* * *

Steam fills the bathing chamber with hot and humid air, fogging the window panes and leaving a damp film upon the stone tiles as Caranthir sinks slowly into the water. The warm mist surrounds him, envelopes him, and from time to time his head sinks down ans he finds himself nearly falling asleep in the dimly lit room. 

He would love to bath with her, he thinks, to lie together in steaming water, damp skin upon damp skin, running his fingers through the wet curls of her hair.

But that wish is definitely out of question.

No one knows about what is happening between them. Of course every one schemes, every one suspects, but as long as the tale is nothing more than a rumour, there still remains a point in denying. But only one talkative maiden peeking through the door, inquiring if the Lord of Thargelion needs any more hot water for his bath and they will be a public sensation, stuff for gossip for the next few yéni. There is not all too much happening here in the mountains after all.

But then, he thinks, they might always just lock the door.

And so he gets up, wraps a towel around himself, and when the serving girl enters, he tells her to fetch yet more hot water.

Enough for the bath to stay warm for a little while longer.

* * *

"Are you sure this is a good idea? It might raise suspicions," she says, sitting perched nakedly on the edge of the tub, watching him while he fumbles impatiently with the locks of the heavy wooden door. 

"Do not worry about that; they will probably just think I am brooding again."

"Are you finished then? I'm getting rather cold, you know." She wraps her arms around herself, rubbing her skin vigorously.

He shrugs. "I cannot really do much against this, Haleth. It is the thick walls. In winter they do keep the worst cold out rather nicely, but especially in spring and now in autumn they do not warm up enough to be comfortable."

"Well, I'm freezing."

"Wine," he ponders distractedly. "We should have some wine. Why do you not get into the water already?"

She smiles sweetly. "I'd rather wait for you."

Only minutes later, as she is lying pressed against him in the warm water - with his arms circling her waist and his hands sliding down her body – she cannot imagine ever being cold again.

* * *

He watches from the bed as she stands with her back to him by the window, a half empty cup of wine still cradled in her left hand, a slender shape outlined by nothing but starlight. 

Only a dream.

"What are you doing?"

"Why," she answers quietly, a far away gaze in her eyes. "I am watching the stars."

He smiles slightly.

"Well, you know, my fortress is a really draughty and chilly place. You might be cold."

"It's all right. I'm already coming." And with that she turns, setting the cup aside, and crawls beneath the blankets.

Her lips taste like red wine, and a thick, still slightly damp, blonde plait snakes down her back, and falls over her shoulders as she rolls around. Tonight they are little more than heated skin and firm muscles shifting underneath each other's touch.

"I think I love you", she finally whispers tiredly, and rests her head - heavy with wine - against his chest.

* * *

It is one of these early mornings that are typical for Thargelion; shortly after dawn most of its people still lie fast asleep, and fogs creep up from the lake to the foot of the mountains, encircling the foundations of Caranthir's fortress. 

Sometimes, it feels like living above the clouds.

In a thicket of scrawny shrubs cobwebs glitter faintly as the first rays of sunlight succeed in piercing the gloom, while the mountain peaks already glow with the light of dawn and all is eerily silent.

There is a chill breeze in the air. Haleth is lying curled up against Caranthir, her blonde braid tousled from sleep (and not only that), her outstretched hand resting upon his chest. The whole situation evokes an eerie feeling of sincerity that he, even when little more than half awake, thinks he can ill afford. And so he gets up, kisses her neck, draws the blanket over her bare shoulders and leaves the room.

She stands by the window, wrapped in the blankets of yesterday's night, staring out into the morning sunshine while the cold makes the fine hairs on her arms stand on end. She knows that, if what happened last night was an illusion, she would gladly shun reality for all eternity to have it again. To have it forever.

But she also knows that there remains hardly a place for illusions in her life.

Haleth shrugs and turns away from the window. She will move on, just like she has always done, just as if nothing has happened. Even if there is no happy ending in store for her.

It is a new day after all.

**THE END**

* * *

****

**Author's Note:** I actually was planning to write something completely un-angsty for a change. I didn't quite succeed, did I?


End file.
